Ite, caldi sospiri, al freddo core;
Rompete il ghiaccio che pieta contende;
E, se prego mortal al ciel s'intende,
Morte, o merce sia fine al mio dolore.
_Petrarca._
He has I know not what
Of greatness in his looks, and of high fate,
That almost awes me.
_Dryden._
Meantime the unfortunate Theodora had spent the day in a continual
succession of sorrows. She had been conducted to another apartment,
somewhat in better order, where she had been pressed in vain to partake
of some food which Marien Rufa with friendly officiousness presented to
her. Sad recollections of her past misfortunes left not an interval of
repose, and her interview with Caneri had awakened in her mind a lively
sense of danger and alarm. Slowly, therefore, and painfully the hours
wore away. She had no alleviation to her distress. The words of comfort
which the hag vainly attempted to administer, would have failed to
sooth, even from the lips of sympathising friends, much more when
surrounded by the avowed and ferocious enemies of her country.
This melancholy day was succeeded by a night still more dreary; for
although worn out with fatigue and suffering, Theodora could find no
respite in the sweet oblivion of sleep. Alas! the feverish slumber that
stole upon her at intervals, was fraught with all the terrors that her
present situation could suggest. The phantoms of night in rapid
succession pressed upon her bewildered imagination: she saw her
venerable father borne down under the pressure of grief, wringing his
withered hands in agony, and pronouncing a direful malediction on his
ungrateful child. She heard that thrilling voice, broken by age, and
quivering with emotion, and on his countenance she beheld the workings
of despair. Fitfully she awoke, and struggled hard to chase away the
heart-rending vision, and then she sunk again to meet another still more
frightful. The wind whistled gloomily through the forest trees; the wild
bird screamed his death song; and a spectre rose with sunken eyes and
squalid cheek, his wounds distilling blood, and his raven locks clotted
with gore. It was her lover--he had left the tree on which he withered
like the seared leaf of autumn, and stalked to her widowed couch smiling
sadly in death,--she shrieked aloud--the phantom fled, and again in
terror she awoke.
Dreams such as these haunted her imagination during the long night. Nor
could the cheering rays of the morn impart consolation to her desponding
bosom. She heard the mingling voices of nature's simple minstrels hail
in grateful chorus the approach of day, and she listened to the various
sounds of busy humanity, rising from the drowsiness of repose to life
and activity. But her feelings could no longer sympathise with the
pursuits of this world. The appalling images which her feverish fancy
had conjured up still pursued her, and if these unwelcome guests left
her a momentary repose, they were succeeded by others no less chilling
to the soul. The heavy measure of her sorrows was yet to be increased by
the anticipation of future evils--evils worse than the terrors of
slavery or death, for she was in hourly danger of encountering the
bitter pangs of shame and degradation.
Caneri had been inspired by her beauty with a violent but licentious
passion, which he had it in his power at that moment to gratify, and
this idea agitated the wretched Theodora with the most dismal
apprehensions. While she sat pondering on her disastrous fate, and
vainly devising means to avert its danger, she was surprised by the
entrance of Marien Rufa.
"A good morrow, sweet lady," said the crone; "well, this is a pretty
comfortable chamber:--you must have slept soundly."
A deep sigh was the only answer she could elicit from Theodora.
"At all events," continued Marien Rufa, "you must leave off sighing and
weeping, for sure enough you can derive no good thereby. Besides, it is
meet your countenance should assume a more cheerful expression, since
you are soon to be honored with a visit from the magnificent Caneri. He
has been forcibly struck with your charms, and has signified his
intentions of coming shortly to pay his devoirs in person. So I am here
before-hand to bid you prepare for the illustrious visitor."
The heart of Theodora died within her, as the hag announced this dreaded
intelligence, for though we may fancy ourselves prepared to meet a
danger with which we are hourly threatened, yet its immediate approach
rarely fails to cause an additional pang.
Theodora was cruelly alive to the helplessness of her situation. She
cast a hurried glance around, but could find no signs of comfort; yet
she fixed her last hopes on Marien Rufa, this decayed piece of blanched
mortality, like the drowning wretch who snatches at a withered branch,
though conscious of the frail support to which he clings.
From the little previous intercourse with Marien Rufa, Theodora had
discovered that her disposition was not altogether so inhuman as her
exterior naturally seemed to indicate. Though a renegade, she did not
appear completely divested of compassion towards those to whom she had
once been endeared by the ties of religion and country; a latent feeling
of remorse lurked within her heart, and she did not seem to feel much
interest in the affairs of the Moors. These considerations, together
with the imminency of her danger, led Theodora to throw herself on the
protection of the crone, and beseech her pity and commiseration. But
before she could try the effect of her persuasion, the door suddenly
swung open, and the dreaded figure of Caneri presented itself to her
sight.
He dismissed his attendants, and waved his hand to Marien Rufa, who
slowly retired muttering some half formed inaudible sentences. The door
closed, and Theodora shuddered as she found herself alone with the
odious and detested Moor.
He approached her mildly, and endeavoured with soothing words to calm
her apprehensions.
"Nay, fair Christian," he said, "thou art too much dejected, nor is thy
grief reasonable. The chances of fortune threw thee into my power, and
thou art now my slave: this, as well as the circumstance of thy
belonging to the race of our accursed enemies, might naturally make thee
apprehend but indifferent treatment from the Moor. I might, indeed, have
delivered thee to the brutality of my soldiers; I might have heaped upon
thee all the horrors of such a degradation; but I have taken compassion
upon thy youth and beauty (his eyes glistened with savage joy), and
instead of that, thou shalt have the honor of being the partner of my
own pleasures."
Theodora covered her face with her hands, and her whole frame shook
violently, whilst Caneri, in an agitated and angry tone, proceeded--
"This contempt of my generosity may prove prejudicial to thy future
fortunes. Many, many are the women amongst the faithful who would feel
proud to accept the offers which thou seemest to treat with unbecoming
disregard. But trifle not with the benignity of my disposition; for
Caneri, though an outcast, and a sovereign only of wild mountains and
deserted villages, has yet power enough to enforce his commands, and
inflict a summary vengeance upon those who dare thwart his wishes.
Remember, then, thou art my slave, and deny me not as a lover what I can
easily exact as a master."
"I am your slave," cried Theodora, tremblingly, "and it is not my
intention either to despise your generosity or dispute your power. I am
sensible of both--command me the most menial services, I will do
all--nay, take my life; but, oh! spare me, in mercy spare me the
degradation which you are meditating."
"Degradation!" exclaimed Caneri, rising with rage, "degradation! By the
mighty Allah! such temerity is unparalleled! Thy youth and ignorance
alone can excuse the criminality of such an expression."
Theodora could only answer by tears. But during the pause which ensued,
the mind of Caneri underwent a sudden revolution; from the highest
paroxysm of choler, his features gradually relaxed into complete
serenity. This alteration did not proceed from a sense of generosity
towards his victim, for he was fully determined to carry his designs
into execution; but, like a refined voluptuary, he calculated the
advantages he might derive from a timely forbearance. He was, therefore,
resolved to exhaust every gentle means before he had recourse to the
last extremity.
He now took the hand of Theodora, which she had not the power to
withhold, and pressing it tenderly between his own, he renewed his suit
with much more suavity of tone and delicacy of manner. Theodora
suffered perhaps more from this unexpected display of kindness, than
from the brutal asperity and violence which the Moor had before evinced.
For in cases of extreme danger, violence will sometimes inspire a degree
of courage, while condescension and urbanity from those who have the
power to command is more distressing, inasmuch as it enervates that
strong principle of resistance and leaves in its place the weaker and
less decisive resource of expostulation.
But by degrees the patience of the amorous Moor was wearing away with
the ill-success of his suit, and starting up suddenly, and looking
intensely on the afflicted fair, he made a last attempt to conquer her
opposition.
Theodora threw herself at his feet, and embracing them eagerly strove to
interest his pity by the intensity of her anguish. Her tears fell
copiously and her sobs almost impeded her utterance; but this evidence
of extreme distress, in lieu of subduing, only tended to kindle more
warmly the fierce desires of the Moor. In his hot distempered veins
raged the fever of passion, as he saw that lovely picture of female
helplessness prostrate at his feet; her clustering hair floating in
loose profusion, and her charms acquiring additional interest from the
wild disorder of her situation.
Caneri glutted his eyes with her beauty, and his whole frame thrilled in
a ferment of anticipated raptures. He snatched the fainting Theodora
from the ground, almost overpowered with the conflict of her
feelings.--As he clasped her in his arms, the unfortunate girl beheld
his savage features glistening with joy. She shuddered at their glowing
expression, and with a sudden and violent effort burst from his hold.
The heart of the miscreant swelled with indignation and disappointment.
He cast a threatening look on the trembling victim, and no longer
restrained by any consideration, he again violently seized her.
"Who will protect thee now?" cried the Moor, exultingly.
"Death!" replied Theodora, with the courage of despair.
"Death!" retorted Caneri, with a mocking laugh; "Death! Surely thou must
fancy that I am to be intimidated by the ravings of a woman. No, thou
canst not die, even if that were truly thy desire. Thou _shalt_ not die,
at least till I think thee no longer worthy of contributing to my joys."
Theodora clasped her hands in agony; her fate appeared now inevitable.
Her unmanly enemy furiously mastered her remaining efforts; her feeble
struggles were almost overpowered, and as her senses were about to
forsake her, she wildly shrieked aloud for help. At this moment a noise
was heard at the entrance of the room; the door, as if by a tremendous
exertion of strength, was wrenched from its hinges, and a tall
mysterious figure stalked into the apartment and stood motionless with
amazement. Theodora uttered a scream of joy at this timely deliverance,
while the enraged and disappointed Moor turned fiercely round to
ascertain who had the temerity to venture upon such an intrusion.
The towering figure that stood before him seemed a stranger to his eyes.
He was enveloped in a long and ample Spanish cloak, and his countenance
was almost hidden by a dark clustering feather that fell from his
slouched hat.
Caneri shook with ire.
"What treason is this?" he exclaimed. "A cursed Christian in my very
dwelling. Malique! Alagraf! Where are ye, villains? Guards! Seize the
wretch, seize him, and drag him to death!"
"Stay!" cried the stranger, in a voice of thunder; "stay! ere thou
darest to offer the least violence to me--nay, advance but one foot, and
I'll strike thee to the earth."
Caneri was awed by the noble and fearless manner of the stranger.
"A Christian!" he continued, in a more subdued voice, "and darest thou
in my very dominions to utter such vaunting threats? Dost thou forget
that these are the Alpujarras, and that I am Caneri?"
"I am no Christian," replied the stranger: "a Moor, a true Moor am I,
but one who blushes to count Caneri amongst his associates."
"Speak!" cried Caneri, bewildered, "Speak! what mystery is this? Who
then art thou?"
"Know me, then," returned the other, and throwing aside his disguise,
discovered a man of tall stature and athletic proportions. On his dark
bronzed countenance there was an expression of bold defiance and cool
resolution; his eyes were lighted up with the fire of noble courage, and
although no tender feeling could be detected in his stern features, yet
they were not altogether devoid of generosity. He was a model of
mountain beauty, wild, majestic, and free from artful decoration. A
simple Moorish tunic, which the most humble of his followers might wear,
covered his manly figure, and the only mark of distinction by which his
dignity could be recognized was a scarf of green, the sacred colour, and
a large buckler on which was portrayed a noble lion, surmounted by the
Arabic motto,[28]
_Edem pasban derwish est aslan._[29]
Caneri gazed in astonishment, and almost bereft of the powers of
utterance could only exclaim----
"El Feri!"
"Yes!" answered he. "El Feri de Benastepar arrives in time to witness
the honorable occupation of his colleague in command, whilst our brave
companions remain unburied and rotting on these wild solitudes, and the
proud Christian pursues us like the hungry tiger, giving us not a
moment's repose; whilst our forces have been routed and slaughtered by
the victorious Alonso de Aguilar, and the few that have escaped his
murderous sword, in conjunction with El Feri, are compelled to seek for
safety in disguise and flight; I thought we should meet with succour and
assistance in the mountain home of Caneri--and how do I meet him? Not
ready in arms to cover our retreat; not laudably occupied in providing
resources for our dispirited soldiers, but meanly courting the
blandishments of a Christian slave. Weak and forlorn and despairing, my
few brave comrades are stretched on yonder street, fainting through
want, and worn out with fatigue. I call upon Caneri for help, and I find
that the power which was intrusted to him for our mutual defence is
basely employed, not against the common enemy, but a feeble defenceless
female! Shame, Moor! shame! But that I reverence the public voice that
named thee chief, and that I desire not to arrogate to myself a
retributive justice, I myself would wrench from thee that command which
thou shamest, and entrust it to the hands of men more worthy."
Caneri remained some time speechless and abashed. Amazement, confusion
and terror alternately occupied his distracted mind; the taunts and
rebukes which El Feri had so lavishly bestowed, roused his anger almost
to madness. His heart boiled in a frenzied ebullition to which he durst
not give utterance, for he well knew that he himself would be the first
victim of its explosion. Convulsed with rage at the imagined insult, he
seemed ready to dart upon the arrogant censor of his actions, but the
tremendous power of his fellow-chief suddenly paralyzed his arm. It was
the fierce mastiff burning to rush upon the terrible bull, yet
restrained by the conscious superiority of the noble animal.
Twice the hand of Caneri was involuntarily directed towards his dagger,
and twice some sudden recollection seemed to arrest its progress. And
then he strove to conceal the incautious movement from the eagle eye of
El Feri; but the inward workings of his soul were easily detected by the
keen penetration of that chief. He stood unmoved, and whilst a sardonic
smile curled his lip, he said in a voice of dreadful import----
"Caneri, thou darest not. I see thy dastardly intention, but thou hast
not the boldness to practise what thy heart has the baseness to
dictate:--another such a movement, and thou liest a corpse at my feet."
As he uttered these last words, his brow was darkened, and his eye
flashed with indignation. Caneri, if somewhat deficient in the manly
virtues of a warrior, was amply compensated by the crafty dexterity of a
dissembler, and he now perceived the policy of hailing as a friend the
man whom he dared not defy as an enemy: he therefore with a mighty
exertion stifled his emotion, and his whole appearance became calm and
composed. Indeed an expression of mixed repentance and candour varnished
his wily and tortuous features, as he proceeded to greet El Feri with
words of amity and companionship.
"Forgive," he said, "the unwary ebullition of transient displeasure.
Thou knowest the sincerity of my sentiments towards El Feri. But, were
these even to be doubted, the welfare of the Moorish cause imperiously
requires the sacrifice of all private resentment amongst its chiefs."
"Yes," returned El Feri, "the welfare of the Moorish cause requires
union and amity between the chiefs, but these are not the only virtues
necessary to render it successful."
He uttered these words in a significant tone, which could not be
misconstrued, but to which Caneri pretended not to give any
interpretation.
"Is then our danger so imminent?" he inquired.
"This very day," replied El Feri, sadly, "this very day perhaps our fate
will be decided. The victorious army of Aguilar is rapidly advancing
against us. We have been completely routed at Gergal, by forces superior
in number and discipline, and the few who have escaped the slaughter are
indebted for their safety to their knowledge of the mountain passes. We
have no time to spare; our men must be instantly put in a state of
defence or we shall be surprised unprepared: the hidden situation of
this place affords no security, since a traitor Moor is the guide of the
Christians; and to his perfidy is chiefly to be ascribed our late
discomfiture."
This intelligence threw Caneri into some confusion, but he soon
recovered that coolness and presence of mind which constituted his
resources in cases of emergency, and which made up for his moderate
share of personal courage.
"Friend," he cried; "it is enough--let us act."
He was on the point of sallying forth, when he was startled by a
confused murmur from without, and presently a Moor rushed in, with all
the symptoms of fear and alarm.
"Buzcur, what means this trepidation?" demanded Caneri.
"The Christians are in sight," replied Buzcur.
"The Christians! The Christians!" echoed a hundred voices.
"Let us haste then, and prepare for our defence," exclaimed El Feri; and
he rushed forward without even noticing Theodora, for his thoughts were
too much engrossed by the public weal.
Caneri saw him depart with visible pleasure; for though the danger
appeared great, yet he did not lose sight of his expected prey, and
casting a fierce look on the affrighted girl, he exclaimed----
"The next time we meet, thou shalt not escape me thus."
Then having with promptness secured all her means of evasion, he
hastened to join El Feri de Benastepar and his companions.
The feelings of Theodora at this unexpected event were thrown into the
highest excitement. Hope now resumed its sway, though mingled with doubt
and fear, for the sudden transition from a state of hopeless despair to
that of comparative safety, is ever attended with a misgiving of its
reality. Her deliverance from the power of the Moors appeared almost
certain; the name of Aguilar was the harbinger of victory; yet the
anticipation of her rescue caused so powerful a revulsion of feeling,
that Theodora nearly sunk under its pressure. When she had a little
recovered, she perceived, however, more clearly, that her destiny was
still involved in threatening clouds. The Christians came, but they
might be vanquished. The name of Alonso de Aguilar conjured up the
brightest hopes, but that of El Feri gave rise to as many fears.
Thus the heart of the afflicted girl fluctuated between pain and
pleasure, when the clangor of trumpets, the tramp of horses, and all the
imposing sounds of military preparations, announced to her the speedy
arrival of the eventful crisis.
In that awful moment her ideas piously reverted to heaven. She fell
prostrate on the ground, and while her countrymen were fast approaching
to join in terrific conflict with their enemies, she prayed fervently
for the assistance of her God in favor of the Christian arms.